When Aspens Weep

The villain is out causing havoc again. The cold case is open once more. I'm never surprised, but always at odds when this happens.

Thinking back to January when the snows are fluffy and light and happy to be here, blowing in great burst of soft snow clouds. Pin pricks of tiny snowflakes tickle your face in playful teasing. Sometimes at night, in the halo of the street light, tiny silver strands of snow make the evening an amazing art show. It's a time of broom sweeping, sun shining, deep Colorado blue skies. The sun fights the cold air by warming your face. Satisfying!

So when does this magic become sinister and dark? It's a time when the light goes away. I'm not sure why, but it is certainly gone. Even at noon, there is no color. All color lies muted in shades of gray, blue gray, black gray. Rocks become a monotone. Gray paper skies. White mountain peaks disappear in heavy foreboding clouds. This — is Springtime in the Rockies.

Let's go back to the case of a very heavy wet snow this spring. Wet, drippy, bone chilling cold snow. Yesterday as I was struggling trying to lift the shovel full of snow, a plop of snow on my head caused me to look up at the huge aspen tree that dropped the wet snowball on me. I couldn't believe my eyes. Wiping my cold tearing eyes, I look again. Walking nearer, no it is not a scar on my aspens, it is indeed wet, watery tear drops running down the bark. Putting my finger on the trails of tears, I imagine a salty taste. Too quiet, not a hint of a breeze, only silence. Unbelievable. No road sounds, no dogs barking, nothing.

So I'm not alone, it is not just me that is sad this time of year. My trees are yearning for their pea green buds to appear, the sap to rise and warm their branches. Everything is waiting. We know it is coming. Just not soon enough. Tightly closed buds on the lilac bush, the flowering almond and the aspen remind me of a child closing their eyes tight not see what they don't want to see.  Me too. I want to close my eyes tightly to not see the upcoming "mud season" and this year especially, the heavy wet snow.

As much in denial of the horror outside, last night I glanced out my front window onto my deck that I light up with rope lights and a red uplight for my aspen. I stopped, frozen in utter amazement. It was so beautiful. All the gray was gone. Warm yellow, pink, red and all shadows of colors glorified the snow.

I'll never solve this Cold Case and I'll never close it either. Sometimes when all is dark and dreary, beauty lies just around the corner. I'm just glad to see it and to share it with you.